


She's everything he'll never have

by GirlNormanDixon



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 13:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18692683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlNormanDixon/pseuds/GirlNormanDixon
Summary: Honor. Glory. Whatever any knight sought, but Sandor was not a true knight, he was only a Dog. Power. Recognition. Everything that any Lady sought, but Clarie was not a true Lady, she was just a bastard. Only Tyrion is able to keep his honor of the king, and only Sandor is able to defend it there against the orders of the king by Clarie. Is Clarie the little bird of prophecy?





	1. Prologue

_**Sandor Clegane** _

Observar o cavaleiro de madeira e dar-se com as mãos entrelaçadas, balançando como pernas, desejando, mas pertenciando um Gregor, ele sabia. Ele ouviu uma voz doce que ia para uma casa de alguém, pegava qualquer coisa, e ele apenas balançou uma cabeça e não importou, tirou-a e olhou para o cavaleiro, que olhou por ele. Ele contou uma porta e olhou para ela. Ele estava sozinho em casa, Gregor não tocava mais com aquele cavaleiro por anos, que mal faria?

Ele ficou de pé, ainda com medo, e seus olhos castanhos brilharam para o cavaleiro, desejando-o. Ele está entre os dedos e estudou seus detalhes com apreciação. Um sorriso prolongado em seus lábios. O dia é um grande cavaleiro, como nas histórias. O senhor, que viveu suas aventuras, montando um cavalo, conquistando sua honra e glória, e tendo um bom amor, poderia implorar por um beijo, implorando por uma noite, ou uma vida O Senhor da Família e um Melhor cavaleiro, e o ideal e gentil de todos e poderia ajudar toda a precisemic.

Ele sentou no chão, brincando com o cavaleiro como se fosse um verdadeiro cavaleiro. Como era o doce, com o homenzinho, e ele não podia dizer o quanto ele estava lá, apenas para ser uma criança, tendo que se matar, com homens arrogantes, assassinos, ladrões, tendo na guerra e honra, em casa. com mulheres, festejando e bebendo depois de uma luta vencedora. Foi tão glorioso imaginar-se um verdadeiro cavaleiro.

Só o barulho e a energia de volta, assustado. Ele olhou para o irmão aterrorizante, com os cabelos castanhos na frente dos olhos, o que dificultou a visão do irmão, embora jovem, com apenas doze anos, era tão alto quanto um adulto. Sandor levantou-se de olhos arregalados, depositando rapidamente o cavaleiro na mesa.

"Gregor, eu estava brincando." Sua voz era baixa, falha e medo. Ele poderia apenas fazer uma brutalidade de seu irmão e um corpo inteiro de medo. Os dedos grossos de Gregor se curvaram em seu cabelo e o arrastaram quando Sandor gemeu de dor, segurando os fortes do seu irmão. E então ele sentiu isso. Ele sentiu o rosto desligado quente, depois a queimação. Ele tomou o fogo e o amor como sua pele teve sido arranjado de seu rosto e outra vez. Gregor scregou o rosto de Sandor contra as mamas quentes e a criança gritou, gritando com toda a força que seus pulmões pudessem se apresentar. Ele estava empurrando e se debatendo inutilmente. Gregor continued scregando o rosto contra as brasas, ouvindo-o gritar, encontrar prazer em pedir-lo.

O fogo consumiu o rosto do pequeno Sandor eo sangue não podia nem pingar. Foi a dor mais forte que a sensação de estar vivo, tão forte quanto a dor de cabeça.

"Gregor!" Uma voz doce ouviu, agora desesperada para gritar. - "Gregor, solte! Gregor!" Ela puxou os braços dele, e depois não deu mais nada, sentindo-se dolorido pela dor intensa e fechando os olhos. Gregor finalmente soltou-o e so viu when a jovem se atirou em Sandor. "Gregor!" Gregor ficou com os irmãos.

"Agora sonhe com seus pássaros, sua boceta fraca". Ele cuspiu as palavras and caminhou até o cavaleiro de madeira, pegando-o e indo para o quarto. Há algumas coisas que Sandra lembrava a sua infância. Você está certo de lembrar. Seu modelo seria marcado para sempre.

 

_**Clarie Baratheon** _

In an obscure and a dark place one could see only intensely blue eyes, standing fixed like statues but alive, he could feel. It was the only thing that could be seen beside a cage, a little away from those eyes. Made of extremely thick and beautiful grids of gold, brilliant and luxurious, preventing the Lion from leaving. There was a collar also luxurious made of great precious stones but as tight as it could be against the neck of the feline beast.

Then she heard a sudden bark as frightening as those eyes followed by a bellow echoed finally giving the grill a light that resembled the fire, but she did not look directly at the lion. She was looking at the dog. He barked fiercely at the blue eyes, and she saw the burned face of the poor rabid dog.

There was a small bird beneath the dog, wounded perhaps, but the bird glistened and this made the dog appear larger, stronger. It made the playing cards so powerful and the lion more feared, more powerful. There were two other animals, but she would not look at them and she would not be able to see them, even if she tried. They were so far away.

She only watched the dog growl, as the bird plopped, snuggling in its paw. He jumped back as the sword fell in front of him. She fell, seated and could hear a strange growl which she had never heard before, that no animal she knew would produce. Next, a howl followed by a few more. And with a blink of an eye, there were people who knew how to be the brave men who beat their spears to the ground.

The blue-eyed men wanted the sword, she knew and she touched it before they could approach. It was warm, it was as if it had just come out of the fire, and then it was thrown back. She opened her green eyes and sat on the bed. She looked around and noticed that she was in his room. The little girl got up and ran out of her room.

She was a child, maybe eight, maybe five, maybe more or maybe less but she was so small, and she was holding her dress while running with a shy smile on her lips. She opened the door as fast and as euphoric as she could be and came close to her father who looked at her and she did not even realize the anger in his eyes. The anger he always had in his eyes when he looked at her.

"Dad! I dreamed of jackals, a lion, and a dog, who protected his bird from the blue-eyed men. She jumped into place still clutching her dress, trying to remember the dream that was slowly disappearing from her mind when she felt her father's heavy hand on her face, making her fly. She cringed on the floor as her face hurt.

"I told you plainly, the meeting room is strictly forbidden!" His voice sounded like thunder and she stood there, as she always did when he or her stepmother or her older siblings mistreated her. Waiting until he ordered her or pulled her hair out, but that was not what happened. She felt the warmth of a body pulling it off the floor and holding it in her lap. She opened her eyes, and she could see a man with blue eyes and long hair trapped in a bun and a beard to be done with a friendly smile.

He could see another man behind, he wore his hair half loose, and he was a very light brown and he also had a beard.

"Forgive my meddling, cousin Robert. "She whispered tears to our eyes and heard her father clear his throat, angry.

"King Robert."She corrected him and the man looked at the other, with a very ugly look, berating him for such an act.

"Do not worry, Lady Clarie." He said, wiping her tears away.

"Forgive me My King, but Clarie is not Lady." Her father said and Robert looked at him once more.

"Yes, when she carries the family name." He said and Clarie stood there in Robert's arms.

"But my king, I did not authorize her to have my name." He said, his tone low but visibly irritated.

"There's no need for you to autherize it." Robert said, turning slightly to Eddard, handing her the girl. "I am the current ruler of the house Baratheon, king of the seven kingdoms and I can fucking well give her the name of my family." Robert looked visibly irritated by what the man had done. He had always heard rumors that they mistreated her, but he never imagined it to be true, coming from a man as loyal as Newt, as kind as he appeared to be and his children.

"Come, Ned, we'll end this meeting later." He growled and started walking toward the door while the wolf followed him.

"My king, you did not get your father's permission ..." Eddard said, and he was strong he was walking beside Robert.

"Please, Ned do not call me that." Robert whispered, and the man carrying the girl just continued. Robert had already had a little drink that day.

"She will not have legitimate rights even if all of Newt's children die, they would not have to share their wealth, they could expel her without anyone saying a word. "He said, following the king. "She'll still be a bastard by law, she'll only have a name." He said, and she settled into Eddard's arms. "And she will be continued to be treated as one and she will be mistreated every day for having your name now". Ned warned, and Robert seemed to get more angry with every word. "And it is not prudent to leave that meeting in such a way, my king."

"She'll be a Baratheon, anyway. "He said loudly. "Take her to Winterfell and foster her as you are doing with Theon." He said, and his voice was very annoying and the drinks he had taken did not seem to help.

"My king, not wanting to be rude but my house, my castle, my family is not an orphanage.I take care of Theon and I have my own bastard. "He said and Robert laughed a little more relaxed.

"One more will not make a difference" Robert said. "She'll be better off with you than here," Robert said, slowing down, looking at his friend. "When she reaches a certain age, marry her to some family and you will not have any problems, you can forget her." Robert put his hand on his friend's shoulder, but Eddard knew it was not so easy to send someone away after a couple of years together, even if he only created her without blood ties, just like Theon. "Come, my friend, I need your help ... A king can not have a bastard from another Baratheon." He said and took a deep breath. "I can not raise a bastard. I can not raise mine nor can i raise Newt's. It would not be a good thing and I can not send her to Tywin. He created a Clegane, and he knows the motive, the "why" he did it and with her, it would be no different. " He said, and Eddard took a deep breath, giving himself a few seconds to think, and nodded . "Good, I thought I'd have to give you an order." He said more seriously and walked again, and Eddard stood there, holding her, standing, watching his king walk away.

"O que é Winterfell, lorde Stark?" Ela está ouvindo o homem enquanto olha para seus cabelos castanhos claros. Eddard fechou os olhos, pensando de novo e suspirou.

"Parece a sua nova casa." Ele sussurrou. E Clarie se moveu estranhamente em seus braços.


	2. My kidnnaper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we meet Clarie, the young woman who is kidnapped and kept for King Joffrey by Sandor. There is also Tyrion's attempt to cushion the fact that he is the prisoner of the most sadistic man in the seven realms.

It was scarier every second, and she did not know what to do. The last thing she remembered seeing was the tall man in scary armor. His face was burnt and deformed, making his appearance more frightening than one could think of being. She knew him but the truth was that before she'd never looked at him. She had never seen him for a long time and had never heard anything about him. She only knew how good he was with the sword. Se would never forget the sword fight he had had with The Mountain. But what she knew about him came down to this: "The Dog, King Joffrey's Hound, tall and burnt-faced, brutal with his sword." That was it, not one more letter.

"Let me try this." The man next to him smiled an extremely wide and cruel smile, interested in the young woman he was looking at, his bloody eyes for possessing her as brutal as he could.

"Do not touch this one, Drewn." The Dog growled and strode toward the girl, tossing it over his shoulders, not gently.

"The Dog," they called him as he passed by and this frightened her more and more by the sheer fear and contempt they displayed. She heard the sounds of the swords, the blood dripping but her eyes remained closed. She was afraid, she could not deny and she was sore and she knew what would happen; he would rape her.

She could not tell when they had covered her face with that smelly bag, or how long she had walked, only heard someone say something to the man:

"Place her on the horse and get her out of here. Those who will be with you are coming." And it just felt like being put on a horse, already with hands tied and you can feel the Knight with the burned face sit in front of her but this did not move, just waited until some more horses and carts joined them and trotted.

Those long days passed as if they were the last of the girl. She did not speak even if they spoke to her. She did not cry, even if they screamed, even if they wanted to possess her. She did not feel protected, even if the Dog threatened them if they touched her and did not eat.

"You should eat, Milady." "Dog said the lower one who managed to mock the last word, removing his hood, but she was startled to see that for the first time somebody gave her the food, and it was Dog. She was looking disgusted at his scars. He did not untie her, just raised the food, so that she could eat it. She did not look at him, just bit the food. "Come on, 'Milady' drink." She drank it carefully and removed a handkerchief and wiped her mouth, but she still did not look at him. He repeated that gesture for a few days, always more arrogant than the day before but she did not look at him and that was what irritated him.

She said nothing, just ate and drank. She huddled over Dog's horse. She felt as if her bones were breaking with every trot of the horse and Dog barely slept. She did not even pay attention to the men who were shouting for her but Clegane always gave them menacing glances, which shook violently with fear.

"The Dog will give in. He hears the Lannister, but he cannot resist such a body. Count the days, bitch Baratheon. My dick will still be inside of you before we get to Kings Landing. "

She could tell, but she would not know. She was afraid and with every movement near her, she felt she would be raped. This was the most frequent danger for all women and one of the most terrible. Be raped, raped and raped.

She only opened her eyes when she heard excessive murmurs. They were in Kings Landing, she knew. They trotted over and over until she felt herself being pulled from her horse when they were still trotting. She was thrown to the ground with violence, and several hands touched her, scraped her, and she could feel two kicks on her back.

They screamed incomprehensible things while they were still trying to lynch it. She can feel the men and women being yanked out of her, and once again put on the horse trotting even faster. The burned rider took her from her horse again and ripped the bag from her head, and then she could see everything, ignoring where it hurt in her body. She could see Joffrey on the iron throne, his flawless crown shining brightly and his cruel eyes accompanied a wicked grin. Beside him, Cersei Lannister could not be found had been temporarily sent to Casterly Rock, while her father was busy with the war with almost the entire army.

"That, my people is Clarie Baratheon. A distant cousin, bastard of Newt Baratheon, despite the name. She sent troops, openly supporting Stannis, ordered an attack on my grandfather's troops, and ...

"I've never done that", she cried "How could I, I'm just a bastard." She did not even notice when she said those words she saw Joffrey's gaze go to her in that terrible and as intractable a way as only he could manage. Of course, she strongly believed that he was Jaime's bastard, that was his only crime but he never said it high enough to be condemned.

"Are you saying that I lie ?!" He rose from the throne, menacing, brandishing in his squeaky voice but she did not answer him, just turned her gaze to the king's boots, deciding that she would calm down once more. Joffrey looked at her for a few seconds. "Once Sansa left, I had nothing to play with but it seems, ladies and gentlemen," he would say to the half-dozen vassals there. "That Dog brought me something new, did he not? How about we start with something like cut a finger or maybe an entire hand? What do you think?" He asked her and he laughed, amused himself, reaching out to anyone beside him and got a medium-sized dagger and started down the stairs quietly while cleaning his nails. The burned knight shifted behind the girl, stepping back so that Joffrey felt more at ease. He stopped in front of her, still wiping his nails and after a second look at the brunette, who was still interested in the black of the king's shoes.

"Stretch her arm Dog," he said, waiting for the burned knight to obey, and Joffrey looked up for a few seconds, and then Dog bent down, stretching the brunette's arm in front of Joffrey, and she looked at The Hound briefly, and Dog looked at her for a few seconds as Joffrey studied his dagger for a little while and then laughed, but Dog stood up, as if giving up and Joffrey looked up at the man, gritting his teeth. "Sir Meryn, my dog disobeys me. Hold the lady's arm."

"What's going on here? I can not believe that Joffrey, as opposed to welcoming our visitor, is acting like a spoiled child once again!" The loud voice echoed, and the young girl Baratheon looked where the sound came from. The owner of the voice that had such firmness was no more than six-and-a-half feet, walking with short, slightly crooked legs, and a little wavy, blond-brown hair. "Stand up, nephew if you do not want my hand to make a mark on your face again."

"I am the king!" Joffrey started up in a menacing tone, but Tyrion cut him off as if it were something normal.

"We've been through this, have not we? I have already proved to you that my hand does not fall for hitting a King."He said, still walking, and stood in front of Joffrey. The King looked at him, pursing his lips, while Tyrion extended his hand to the young woman, who retreated for a few seconds, but held your hand still standing, still looking at the ground but it was impossible at this point not to see the Dwarf.

Joffrey made a terrible frown and was shaking his head unsatisfied. He looked slowly to the sides, and looked down again at his uncle, and whispered:

"Whatever." He practically spat the words, looking up at the tall burned Knight. "Come, you're going to keep her like a good dog for me." He approached, and whispered something in Meryn Trant's ear and then the burned knight smiling just then, looking at everyone. "Dog, watch over her for me and make sure she does not flee, among others." He whispered to the tall man but continued to smile cruelly. "Go away, Dog will guide you." The man nodded, and put his hand on the girl's shoulder, leading her out of the hall. The walk would be slow and silent were it not for the noise of the heavy armor of the burned knight, with heavy steps.

The Dog stopped in front of a door, and in seconds a maid approached, bowing slightly, not looking at the Dog in fear. She opened the door and gave room for Lady Baratheon to pass. She looked vaguely at the Dog and looked down.

"The King has ordered that ... you shall spend the night here until she understands that she is his amusement ... I will bring you a more comfortable chair so you can rest and nap if you wish, Sir ..." She paused, not looking at him. "Dog." She whispered and he snarled a yes. He knew Joffrey just wanted to torture her with his presence and his face burned.

Maid entered the room, and silently bathed the young Baratheon, prepared her bed and laid her down, pretending to sleep. She disappeared into the corridors and soon returned with a large armchair, which the Dog did not even deign to help the poor thing. He threw himself there stripped so that his sword would not disturb him. He remained there all night, listening to the muffled whimper coming from the room which allowed him only brief naps.

The Dog slept in his chair and shuffled. He had not slept for more than an hour. His eyes were opened when maid called him as gently as he could. He opened his eyes and stared at her. She looked down, and just shook her head and slammed the door, waiting for no more than two minutes, and the door opened, and maid entered the room; It took a few seconds until footsteps echoed and the burned knight stared at the approaching dwarf.

"Sandor." Lord Tyrion greeted, and stood by the man's side, waiting for her to leave. "Sandor, what did Joffrey say to you?" He asked, leaning back against the wall, crossing his short arms. Sandor looked at him with his usual expression. The door swung open, and the maid passed quickly through them, disappearing down the hall. "Well, you do not have to watch her all the time," Tyrion suggested, and tapped his fingers on the open door and stepped in, looking very slowly, and looked at the young woman, sitting in the corner staring out the window. Tyrion cleared his throat, and she looked at him. "Forgive me, my lady for my meddling. I came to apologize for Joffrey. He acts as if he was less than ten years old, if wants to know." She looked at the window again, her eyes vacant. "I came to welcome you, too. And to say that you do not have to be shy, you can walk around, you are not our prisoner, you are our guest." She looked at him, and she could see Sandor standing at the door, but she did not look at his disfigured face, even though he was watching her. Her eyes were damp, and then she looked at the dwarf.

"And will he follow me wherever i goes, My Lord?" She asked in a frightened voice but politely and Tyrion looked at Sandor, and again at her, smiling a little embarrassed.

"Yes, this is your new-" "But he could not go on. The girl's low voice cut him off.

"So I'm a prisoner," she said quietly, looking down at the floor. "My King made it clear that he's here to watch over me, and to make sure I'm his only toy. " She said, her voice a little shaky. "I heard what Joffrey did to Sansa in no more than a month here." She looked back at the window.

"So you intend to stay in your quarters for the rest of your stay here which sadly is going to long ?" He said in a low but steady voice, looking at the floor and then at her.

"No, my Lord, not at all. " She said very politely, shy and in a whisper a little frightened, reluctant to go on, but tried to look strong, and failed horribly" I just say ... "She paused in fear, glancing at Dog, and all her courage was gone, making her fail ridiculously and fell silent. Rising very slowly, as if she were afraid and without aiming the fearful glance at Tyrion still less to Sandor, walked to the door, attentive to all that could be a danger. "Where would the Gardens be? I will not go to bed. I will pray." She said, still not looking at them

"Forgive me, Lady ... Hum ... Baratheon?"

"Clarie." She suggested in a low, polite voice after Tyrion gestured with her hand as if asking her how she would like to be called.

"Okay, pardon me, Lady Clarie. Your Protector. "He cleared his throat and went on "will escort you wherever you go. He knows Kings Landing almost as well as I do." Tyrion said as he stepped in front of her, he smiled crookedly, bending over. "Milady. " And he turned, crossing the corridor with his short legs. Then Sandor murmured something calling her, and began to walk, listening to her follow him.

The gardens carried a delicious breeze, but nothing made her smile or at least feel less distressed. They had destroyed her kingdom. The truth was that she did not want to be Lady of Storm's End and rule over the people who hated her. She wanted to be a Stark and after a while, to be Lady of a tall, handsome Lord, who would love her. Even though she was a Baratheon, she was a bastard and nobody made her forget it. She could have married this Lord if they had not destroyed her kingdom and eliminated all her chances of returning to her true home, Winterfell.

The dog continued to walk but Clarie sat on one of the several benches scattered around the gardens and then the man stopped and turned to the young woman, who watched the little bluebirds singing. He came back and stood in front of the brunette, startling some of the birds on the ground.

"We have not reached the Sacred Grove." He said in a hoarse voice, and she looked up at him but she could not look at the scars, looking once more at the man's iron boots.

"I will not pray, Sir, forgive me." She said cordially but in fear. The dog was extremely scary and made her feel like a poor sheep being watched by her predator. That look made her tremble with fear.

"I'm not Sir, girl." He said angrily, taking a step back, looking at the birds. She sighed, still afraid, and apprehensive. Joffrey's vassals passed by and saw her, and spoke words of anguish, or debauchery, perhaps of sorrow. He knew what he had done to Lady Sansa.

She did not know how long, she only knew it was noon when Lord Tyrion called her to the banquet which she politely refused, without looking away from the three birds still there and did not even notice when she held one of the small birds who had difficulties in flying and the Dog was already irritated, impatient. The hours rolled a little more, and she caught herself looking disgustingly at the scars. She laid the bird down on the floor again, closed her eyes, and the tears came down, when she finally decided that Joffrey would be as or worse to her that she had been with Sansa since, with recent questions about her blood, bastard Baratheon as he had earned the surname by royal decree of King Robert, now the kingdom questioned who was really the heir to the throne, and even with Stannis, and being only a bastard by the name of Baratheon, Joffrey hated her.

She opened her wet eyes and stared at the bird and heard Dog mutter something irritated and hit hard on a bench a little distance from the young woman. He seemed extremely irritated to be there, following her. She seemed to irritate him in every move, but in spite of everything, she liked that forest. It was beautiful. Not as much as she liked Winterfell, but it was beautiful. There were very green trees and very colorful flowers in contrast to a very blue sky and very white clouds.

"How long will you stay here?" He asked irritably, clapping his hand on the bench once more. "I'm tired of this fuck! I want to drink, and I'll drag you to the castles through your beautiful brown hair if you do not lift your pussy out of it." He growled, raising the tone of his voice in a menacing tone.

"Forgive me, Sir for making your stay here so long. I'll go inside the castle and rest." She said, her voice trembling and very low, like a whisper. She did not want to make him angry, deciding she would be in soon and lock himself in the bedroom. She was afraid of that man. Everyone had and he seemed annoyed by the inability of that little bird to fly. She was startled to hear the noise of the armor, brute, and walk there. The Hound stopped in front of the bird, and lifted his foot, and crushing it, leaving Clarie terrified, looking at the little girl with blood, her eyes wide and unresponsive.

"I'm not a fucking Sir." He said, his voice thick and husky. "You're very polite, Milady. "He was as ironic as he could be. "Like a little bird." He twisted his face, which could be classified as a cruel smile, but Clarie could not see. She did not just look at the red puddle, her mouth half open. "Small birds are easy to crush. The difference is that you have beautiful breasts. " He took a step back and waited a few seconds. "Will I have to carry you, Little Bird?" "He was among the worst men in the world; She was lost, knew that.

Her eyes were watery again and she was still trying to look strong. She got up and could almost see her falter and she would fall, but he held on, and she could hear the Dog laugh, echoing a sound that sounded like a metallic laugh, but she was not sure.


	3. Nasty protector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only introduction to the Clarie's initial coexistence in Red Keep, and the initial relationship with Sandor and Tyrion

O sol já se foi quando ela chegou ao quarto. Uma nova enfermeira entrou em seu quarto, banhou-a, penteou os cabelos, preparou a cama, mostrou-lhe a comida e ficou ali, sentada em uma poltrona enquanto esperava que Hound voltasse.

Clarie passara tanto tempo sentada na cama, agarrada às próprias pernas, sem olhar para ela. Ela amava a presença dela tanto quanto a do cachorro, de Tyrion ou de Joffrey. Ela queria deitar e derramar lágrimas até se cansar e adormecer, mas ela não faria isso sendo observada por alguém que nunca viria.

Ela ouviu a poltrona de Dog rastejar para fora dos quartos e a empregada se levantou, parecendo impaciente e saiu sem dizer uma palavra. Só ela evitou o cachorro e caminhou pelo corredor como na noite anterior. Clarie trancou a porta e Sandor ouviu-a chorar a noite toda e decidiu se ele deveria ir e dizer-lhe para calar a boca, batendo e não acrescentar, açaime-a. Relutantemente, ele apenas socou a porta.

"Cale a boca, passarinho." Ele rosnou irritado e ameaçador e repensou sobre dar um tapinha nela e amordaçá-la.

O dia seguinte tinha sido tão ruim. Ela passou menos tempo nos jardins, sentada naquele banco. Ela não comeu, apenas mordeu um pão duro que Joffrey lhe ordenara e ficou o resto do dia no quarto, e a noite novamente depois de trancar a porta que ela chorou.

"Cale a boca, passarinho ou eu abaixarei esta porta e te calarei, de um jeito ou de outro!" Sua voz mostrava sua raiva, seu ódio e quão mortal seria se continuasse com aqueles soluços e choramingasse. Ele fez uma pausa, mas a noite seguinte foi a mesma e, mais uma vez, Dog bateu a porta. "Eu posso encher sua boca com meu pau, e você não terá mais espaço para o seu lamento!" Ele estava batendo na porta com mais força e mais do que nos outros dias, e um forte soluço ecoou pela fresta da porta, seguido por um silêncio forçado. Ele só ouviu as tentativas de ficar quieto e isso já o agradou.

Na manhã seguinte, o pão que Joffrey lhe enviara como criada era um pão solitário sem sinais de mofo, duro como pedra. Ele seria capaz de desmaiar Hound com este se tivesse coragem de fazê-lo. Ela não tinha mais força para chorar, e seus olhos davam isso. Sua cabeça doía um pouco. Foi tudo o que ela comeu ali, o pão que Joffrey lhe enviara. Ela se recusou a sentar na mesa ao lado de Lannisters.

Ela ouviu uma batida na porta e fechou os olhos. Ele não queria ver ninguém, mas era algo que ela tinha medo de recusar alguém. Ele murmurou para ela entrar, e logo ela podia ver Tyrion, o anão. Ele sorriu ligeiramente e assentiu.

"Lady Clarie, perdoe minha intromissão." Ele disse calmamente, mas estava claro para Tyrion que sua presença estava incomodando-a. "Eu vou ser breve. Sua presença nas audições com as pessoas é solicitada. Não muito longo, mas não se preocupe." Ele parecia querer, mas dizer outra coisa, mas desistiu de se curvar ligeiramente. "Se você precisar de qualquer coisa Milady, eu estou ao seu serviço." Ele disse, virando-se e andando com as pernas curtas de um jeito desajeitado. Clarie fechou os olhos e respirou fundo.

"Milord" Ela chamou, e o anão parou de costas e se virou ligeiramente para olhar para Clarie, que permaneceu com os olhos fechados e o rosto virado para a janela. Ela sabia que ele estava lá, então mais uma vez inflou seus pulmões, desistindo e abrindo os olhos, ainda olhando pela janela. "Se não é desconfortável, eu me pergunto se você poderia me conseguir algo mais comestível." Ela disse em voz baixa. "É tão duro como pedra, esses pães." Ela sussurrou novamente e Tyrion assentiu.

"Qualquer outra coisa que eu possa fazer por você, Lady Clarie?" Tyrion perguntou com uma voz aveludada, e ela olhou para ele não se demorando em seus olhos, virando os olhos para o chão.

"Eu me pergunto se eu poderia visitar a biblioteca, Milord." Ela perguntou, e Tyrion sorriu mais uma vez.

"Claramente. Eu vou levá-lo para a biblioteca depois da audiência." Ele repetiu o arco e saiu. Clarie olhou para a porta e viu Sandor parado ali, olhando para ela. Ela olhou para o rosto dele por alguns segundos, mas depois desviou o olhar. Ela não conseguia olhar para o rosto desfigurado.

Ela inchou os pulmões e esperou até que uma das criadas, ao contrário das outras duas, entrou no quarto deixando pão fresco, queijo, um copo de vinho e um biscoito embrulhado em papel de prata. Ela se alimentou muito devagar, sabendo que o Cão a estava observando através da porta, que ela não teve coragem de fechar. Ela não sabia quando se levantou e o Cão levou-a para a sala do trono e deixou-a entre Varys e Trant.

Tyrion sat in a chair that was farther away visibly bored. She felt terrible between the master of whispers and the King's Knight, Meryn Trant. She shifted uncomfortably but she could not look anywhere but at the door.

"Go, Milady," Varys suggested, giving light polite jerks to his back. She shivered slightly as she began to walk toward the half-man.

"Lady Baratheon, what do you think you're doing? " Joffrey snorted at being polite, but Clarie could not stop. She was afraid. "I'm talking to you, you whore! Go back to your place, or would you rather teach him to respect his king, bastard? " She stopped and looked at Tyrion.

"I called her, you beast. " Tyrion growled and looked at him as Sir Bronn started to walk toward Clarie, leading her to Lord Tyrion. "Do I still have to spank you to behave like a normal person, my king?" Tyrion looked up at Joffrey and gritted his teeth and Joffrey looked as though he would confront him but the doors were opened, and an old woman came in sweetly and went to the king ready to make his requests and Joffrey still staring at Tyrion but the dwarf did not look at him anymore.

"Meryn Trant is an extremely unpleasant man, my lady," Tyrion whispered hoarsely. "You must be careful of everything and everyone, especially the Kings Landing men." He did not smile, and he was looking forward to a visibly irritated Joffrey, who was no longer watching the dwarf. "They are few people to trust."

"Would that be you?" She wanted to be ironic, but her irony died in her throat before she reached the end of the sentence.

"Me?" Sir Bronn said, laughing. "Tyrion pays me what is necessary not to change sides." He laughed hoarsely for a few more seconds. "And you, Milady. It would not be in Hound, would it?" Sir Bronn was looking at Joffrey from a distance, and Clarie looked up at the tall man. He wore his usual armor with his Dog Helm.

"He is right." Tyrion did not laugh at Sir Bronn's joke, and he still stared ahead at Joffrey, which caused a slight shiver in his spine. "I will not tell you to trust me. It would be absurd, in fact, to ask you to do it without knowing me. "He continued seriously. "I can only say that I am one of the only ones who does not enjoy Joffrey's outrage. He looked at her, and gave a short smile, and looked back at the King, raising his head and contesting the decision to deny food to that family.

She stood there beside Sir Bronn and Lord Tyrion for so long that she would be lost, looking at Joffrey and how much he amused himself by saying no to the needy. She sighed to see that Joffrey had finished that exhausting task.

"Follow me, Lady Clarie. I will take the library to you and I will be able to show you the best books in our library." He gestured with his hand to accompany her. "I'll just tell Joffrey about the small council meeting. Do not worry, I will not let him touch you." Sir Bronn pushed her past Tyrion, still showing clear signs of fear, but what could she do? Sir Bronn was stronger than she was, and what would she do? Would run? He just walked reluctantly, afraid. "We'll have a meeting of the little council, My King, and-" Tyrion paused as they went upstairs to see Joffrey whispering something to Sir Meryn Trant and the man pointed at Lady Clarie. He took a few more steps. "What do you say to Lady Clarie, my king?"

"It does not concern you, monster," Joffrey said and laughed at Trant, and then Tyrion tiptoed his fingertips on Joffrey's face. Trant held the handle of his sword, lifting it a little, and Sir Bronn had done the same. The Dog stood indifferent beside Joffrey, who was still staring sideways, biting his lips angrily. He looked at him, and his eyes were pure hate. "I told Trant that when I feel like it, I'll have the Baratheon here so I fill her with bastards." Joffrey looked at Sandor and laughed. "They said they'd be introduced as Hunt Dog bastards." He turned his face back to Tyrion, and he could not see Sandor's odious scowl as if he could become a regicide right there. "It would be the funniest thing to do, to see her carrying my children, having to claim to be from a mangy dog. I'd say, I'll fuck her after her red moon comes and goes again, in her most fertile period to make sure she gives her a litter!" He looked at Clegane, who still twisted his burned face. "What do you think, Dog? Children are something you will never have, with this disgusting face. It would be a great gift, would not it?" But his face was marked once more by Tyrion's small fingers.

"Council meeting afternoon, about the tournament among others, do not be late. " Joffrey continued to look to the side, and Tyrion's small fingers could be counted on the King's white skin. The dwarf moved again, accompanied by Sir Bronn who was still pushing a reluctant Clarie and Hound. He heard Joffrey's shriek, but Tyrion ignored him, making his way down the hall. "Clegane, be a good Dog, and if any of the king's men come to Clarie's quarters at night to take her to Joffrey's chambers, or something of the sort, which entails rape, I want them to be killed," Tyrion said as they walked downstairs, but audible to everyone there.

"How do you want me to kill the king's men? Do not make me laugh." Dog raged, ironically, as they walked. Clarie kept quiet, and looked at the scars of the man, with fear, disgust and turned her face right away.

"Are you afraid of the Royal Guard, Sir Dog?" Sir Bronn joked and there was a loud noise, and Tyrion and Clarie turned, seeing Hunting Dog hold Bronn's neck against the wall, and the green-eyed man was not intimidated by Sandor's great hands in return. Of giving him a neck that could clearly kill him only with a squeeze, and smiled, holding his dagger against the man's burned face.

"Clegane, it is not Sir but is sworn to the house Lannister, and Joffrey is a Baratheon." Tyrion was away from Clarie, and close to them, and whispered low, almost inaudible.

"And she too is a Baratheon. "Dog growled, looking at the dwarf with hatred.

"And I, Tyrion Lannister, order you to protect Clarie Baratheon as best as you can," Tyrion spoke so low that Sandor barely heard him, and Clarie could not even imagine what they were saying from that distance. "I do not want you to disobey your king directly, Sandor, but I command that whatever you can do, do it!" "Hunting dog twisted his burned face to the dwarf and he let go of Sir Bronn with violence, and stomping past Clarie still toward the library, murmuring arrogant words.

Clarie could not tell how much they had walked in silence toward the library only recorded in her memory the path they had taken there. She was happy when Tyrion opened the door and introduced her to the various books in the room.

"I'd be happy to hear that Joffrey even comes near here." Tyrion only laughed, looking at her. "There are many good books there, about the Kings who came before Robert, among them the crazy king and the other Targaryen." Tyrion indicated with his short finger. "I really appreciate Jermond Dants 'Real Coin,' but I do not tell you if you have no interest in the kingdom's economy. He looked around, pointing to another pile of books. – "The Witch of Xandru" is scary, but worth reading. There are 'Lords, Sirs, Knights, and Kings. – The true heroes of history. '". He heard Clegane laugh dejectedly but Tyrion paid no attention, seeing Clarie smile and then went on. "I'll find the story of Westeros, the fiction, and even stories to sleep here Milady." He bowed. " Feel free to read around." He walked over to some books and picked up a thick book, which his short arms held with great difficulty. Sir Bronn ducked and picked up the book from Tyrion who thanked him and turned to Clarie, bowing a second time, and saying good-bye.

"Talvez o Hound também possa aprender alguma coisa." Sir Bronn riu antes de sair, deixando Clarie para aproveitar os livros.


	4. I'm not a true knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joffrey is increasingly stupid and sandor has to protect her from the atrocities of his king which is so loyal, even if Clarie has so much repulsion.

Two more nights came and were gone, without Clegane sleep, only watching the corridors carrying out the order of the half-man, the two tedious days passed, the night fell once more, and Sandor just ate it with my eyes.

Clarie had appropriated "The Real Heroes of History," and locked herself in her bedroom while Clegane went to feed himself, bathe or whatever Dog did in that short time he had for himself. She sat on a large sofa and read up to that moment. Got up already dressed properly for sleep, and laid down, feeling her head to beat but a knock on the door was heard and she stood up, somewhat suspiciously. She frowned and threw the robe over her robes and opened the door.

Joffrey entered the room without any formalities, then close it. Then looking around the room and looking at her again. He looked drunk enough to stumble over the carpet. He reached Clarie without saying anything and tore off her robe, throwing her on the bed as she struggled. Joffrey laughed and tore off his clothes as she screamed desperately. Joffrey's crown was already down and he could almost see Clarie's full nakedness. Joffrey pressed her to the bed, holding her and hurting her.

The door opened abruptly, and Clegane stopped there, staring at her then staring at Joffrey, his hand on his sword observing Clarie with tears in his eyes and Joffrey with one of his hands on Clarie's breast, and the other holding her, as she stared at him.

"Get out of here, filthy dog." He ordered, stumbling over the words, looking back at Clarie. Clarie was looking at Dog, this time without fearing her scars, but in panic, in fear, begging for help. "Dog, obey your master! Obey your owner, dog! Dogs abide by the orders, get out!"

"My young king, you do not want to do this now." He hinted, still holding the handle of his sword, looking at the blond, who had clear signs that he had drunk more than he should have.

"I am the king, stupid dog, I will have what I want." He had difficulty pronouncing the letter D for he was drunk, but still the king.

"My King, tomorrow you will have to wake up early, and you better rest." The burned knight strode toward them, and pulled Joffrey up from Clarie with a little strength, with the young man's resistance. "You cannot be tired, my King," he said, and Joffrey looked at him. He was so drunk that Dog believed he would not even remember what had happened there.

"Yeah, you're right," he murmured, and Clegane led him out of the room, glaring at her, down to her breasts and a higher smile before leaving, closing the door.

She cringed on the bed and let herself cry for some time, afraid that someone would come, that Joffrey would come back, or send Meryn Trant to pick her up until she heard Hound Dog come back, and throw himself on the armchair that lay outside the chambers.

She got up, still scared, afraid that Dog would come in, and also afraid that it would not be Dog. She ran to the door, and locked it, sliding her hand through the door, giving her last sob, and swapping if the fastest that can.

She laid down with wet eyes, and at great cost, she closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by her dreams and then woke up, as if he had not slept five minutes, but it was already late. It was loud snoring coming from the door. She tried several times to force herself to sleep, but she knew that Clegane had not slept properly for more than a fortnight. He had remained awake every trip, leaving the men away from Clarie, taking into account that the time they had to rest on that exhausting journey was no more than four hours a day, and now he would sit in an uncomfortable chair to watch over her at night, and by day, She did not know what Joffrey ordered him to do. He did not sleep well.

She stood there, feeling her head still heavy for several minutes, and then she closed her eyes and inflated her lungs as much as she could, rising and covering herself with a robe, and walking to the door and unlocking it as quietly as she could. Could. She closed her eyes again, and let the air out quietly, knocking the door slowly, opening it, avoiding all the noise. The hallway was significantly colder than her bedroom, and she imagined herself sleeping there in that chair.

She lifted her body and stared at the corridors beside Dog's opposite. She looked down the hallway as a Lion looks at his hunt. Her breathing was an attempt at normalization, and her stomach was cold. She wanted so badly to get out of that corridor and escape from Kings Landing, but she knew she could not. Alone, there, Joffrey would have her in his hands faster than she would have to get out of there if he happened to pass the castle.

She sighed, disappointed, and looked at Dog, startling herself deeply and taking a step back when she saw him standing there. Her brown eyes were visible in the moonlight streaming through the window, and her scars became more horrendous that light, making her feel bad for finding it so repulsive. Sandor took a step toward her and grabbed her arm and she drew back, looking away, already leaning against the portal.

"Please, Sir, it scares me ..."

"So afraid of a Dog, little bird?" Clegane laughed hoarsely, but Clarie did not answer, scared still without her gaze. "What do you think you were doing?" He changed his tone, making him more rude and serious, menacing. She did not look at him and she was afraid. She was always afraid when Dog was putting her close. The man was terribly frightening, incredibly tall, with his scarred face, and his manner of acting, of speaking, he was absolutely scary.

"I can not sleep with your snoring. It would just wake me, Sir, and ..." The Dog laughed low and hoarse, in his coarse manner, but annoyed that Clarie did not look at him.

"I am not Sir. " He gritted his teeth. "I suppose you came and invited me to lie down in your bed?" He enjoyed it, his voice is raspy. "No? On your couch? Are you afraid I'll fuck you, little bird?" He laughed hoarsely, watching her, and she felt his warm breath against her face. She closed her eyes, feeling her salivate mouth. "Come on, little bird, into your room, I will not bother you anymore. " He whispered bitterly, and released her, throwing himself into the chair, and looking forward. She kept her eyes closed, still frightened, and her breathing heavy, but she felt a strange shiver, and her mouth still saliva. "Do not go there, little bird, or I'll understand it as an invitation to your pussy." He growled, still looking straight ahead, and she blinked her head, and went back into the room, slamming the door hard and locking it too fast.

There was no noise coming from Dog that night, but it did not make her rest better than she had. The Dog frightened her and she could not deny that Lord Tyrion made her feel protected, even though she knew it might not be true.

The day had dawned and the maid, this time a brunette, came from Lord Tyrion, combed her curly hair, and apologized for Tyrion, wishing she could not send her coffee since Joffrey demanded she come to the breakfast. Hunting Dog was not at his door, nor was the armchair giving the impression that he had been gone for a long time.

The maid led her through the corridors, taking her to a table full of masses, fruits, drinks, and whatever else she could imagine, there was that table. King Joffrey rose from his chair, looking at her with a metallic smile, and pulled out a chair at his side.

"Sit down here, Lady." Joffrey signaled the chair beside him and Clarie stepped back, looking at the table. Only Tyrion, who was watching her, sat there, and Sir Meryn Trant, leaning against the wall, and Sir Bronn, who sat silent on a chair near Tyrion, and Joffrey, who was extremely annoyed by the man's presence, but did not appear to be anything of the day. She inflated her lungs, closing her eyes for a few seconds, almost imperceptibly, and took the first step, feeling Joffrey looking at her, just like Tyrion and Bronn.

She sat down beside the King as carefully as she could, avoiding looking at him, and stared at Sir Bronn, who was not looking at her by peeling na apple.

"Eat, Lady. " Joffrey pulled the chair hard, making a loud noise, but she stared at Sir Bronn.

"I'm not hungry, my king." She said, looking into her own hands." Thanks." She said, and Joffrey wrinkles his face in an indecipherable expression and slammed his hand on the table.

"All right, one day or another will have to eat. " He said, helping himself, and looking at the uncle, giving a crooked smile. "After all, if you want to stop being that awkward and gain some body, you must eat." He laughed, holding a glass of wine, lifting it as if making a toast and rubbing his hand over Clarie's thigh.

That delayed their breakfast, and she withdrew after a few humiliating comments from Joffrey and only he and Sir Trant laughed, while Tyrion regarded him with disbelieving indignation.

"Milady, I will send Clegane with something to eat," Tyrion whispered to her, and smiled, passing with a humming Sir Bronn.

She went to her quarters, and sat on the edge of the bed, opening her book, and wandering her eyes for four long paragraphs as the door opened without a knock, and Hound hounded toward the table, which Lady Clarie flinched, cowering in her bed. Hound set the coffee down on his desk, and looked at her, writhing his face at something that should be a mocking smile.

"Is the little bird so afraid the Dog bites her?" He paused, taking a step toward the girl who was staring at the pectoral of her unusual armor. She looked at the dogs, emblazoned on her armor, the symbol of her home. "Or are you afraid that Dog will eat it?"

"Clegane ... " She began, finally well to sue, remembering that coat of arms. "Sir, is this Gregor Clegane?"

"I'm not a fucking Sir, I'm a Hound." He took a hard step toward her, making her frightened, staring at his scars with fear, fear, and averted her gaze. She could not look at him, at his scars or at his look full of hatred and desire for death. "Gregor is my brother." He growled roughly, and she closed her eyes, squeezing them. "What did he do to you?" - He asked a little that debauched, having fun with that. "Did he kill who you love?" He continued his tone, and she shifted, and Sandor understood. "He raped someone you knew?" She sounded annoyed at that. "In front of you, perhaps." She did not look at him but turned her face away from Sandor.

"He finished with my ..."

"Don't be selfish, Little Bird. Gregor did not just end his life, you're not the only one, not the first nor the last." She could feel the metallic taste of Dog's voice. He turned, leaving Clarie's room, slamming the door, and leaving her alone.

The days that followed were like this. Joffrey tried to control himself but threatened her every moment, and Tyrion merely stared at him threateningly, avoiding confrontation but seemed more irritated each day and with a gentle approach to Lady Clarie. After getting up from the table, Tyrion sent Clegane a coffee, which she suspected he himself was doing.

She sat down once more for breakfast, but she did not eat the last meal, and Joffrey looked at her with hate.

"Let's go, Lady, eat." He used his sarcasm to be gentle, leaving his irritation obvious. Her stomach betrayed her openly as she begged for food.

"I'm not hungry, my king." She whispered, looking at the cheese in front of her. An absurd thud was heard, and Joffrey stood up.

"Come, then, declare your love for me. " He smiled at that, but Clarie just looked down, and they stayed that way for a while. "Where?" Clarie looked down, without a word to say, and Tyrion rolled his eyes, throwing the cutlery on the plates. "A king should not hit a Lady." His voice scratched at her throat, he could feel it. "Dog, do it! " He commanded looking at the man. She shuddered and felt angry, but Dog did not move, just looking at the King, who will understand that Dog would not do it.

"I am very sorry, Your Majesty. " Dog apologized, and Joffrey was as red as a tomato could be.

"Joffrey!" Tyrion clapped his hands on the table, but Joffrey turned his anger on Dog.

"You useless shit, your king orders!" He yelled, but Dog stood still, and Joffrey would scream again and Tyrion would interfere, but the loud noise repeated twice was heard, and everyone looked at Clarie. His face was red and slowly took on the shape of Sir Trant's fingers. Joffrey laughed. - "Once again!" And the noise echoed, and Joffrey threw himself on his chair, laughing, motioning for Trant to return to the place. Clarie still had her face turned.

"Sit down here, Clarie. " Tyrion ordered and looked where Sir Bronn normally stood, who was not present, indicating where she should sit.

"She will not, Monster," Joffrey ordered.

"I'm a monster, and a king should fear a monster that divides the food and the ceiling. My lady, sit down here." Joffrey seemed to want to say something more, but Tyrion held up his hand and Joffrey remembered his grandfather and bit his lips angrily. He had to continue to support Tyrion at his grandfather's command, and he could not lose the trust of old Tywin Lannister. He sat in the chair and looked at him angrily. Clarie was shaking with rage as she got up and turned around, but Joffrey stood up.

"You have finished our time here." She had barely sat down, and Joffrey announced the end as an order. He leaned forward, running his fingers over her chin, and smiled. "A beautiful whore," he whispered, and pressed his fingers to her face, bruising her, and released her brutally. "You're lucky to be attractive if you did not give the Hunting Dog a gift." He laughed and stood up. Clarie looked at him, still feeling her face hurt and pained. Meryn Trant was turning, and she slipped her fingers through the cheese knife, and stood up, looking at the king with hatred, as she held the knife firmly between her fingers, making steady steps toward the King.

Hound hastened to her, settling between the king and Lady Clarie, slipping his hand from her shoulder to Clarie's hand, discreetly taking the knife, while the king looked at him uncomprehendingly, seeing the Hound take off the handkerchief and clean gently the blood flowing from the girl's lips, and Clarie looked him in the eye for the first time, and Dog did the same.

"How could such a great, frightening man handle such delicate hands or wipe the blood out of my mouth?"- Thought

The king withdrew, and Dog looked at the door and looked back at her, who still stared into his eyes for a few seconds, until he lowered himself a little to his breastplate, sadly.

"I do not want to-" She said, still not looking away from Clegane. He knew that if he had attacked Joffrey, Sir Meryn Trant would kill her before he could complete the task.

"Free yourself the pain, small bird. Do what he wants." He said hoarsely, and she finally averted her gaze after staring at the hideous scars, after feeling the fear retake her body. She lifted the handkerchief back to him, but he did not pick it up. "You'll need it a lot more than I do." Said.

"Come, Dog!" Joffrey shouted from the hallway, and he looked at the door and whirled around, stomping off.

"Dog!" She almost ordered it, but she hesitated to see the man called by that name, and Sandor stopped, still on his back, and looked over his shoulder, giving a hoarse, low, disgusted laugh, and walking again.

"Are you all right, Lady Clarie?" Tyrion felt rather guilty and was already at Clarie's side. She looked at him and nodded. "I will accompany you, my lady. "He said, and they went through the hall. Tyrion had insisted on being with her for much of the time, and as much as she did not show it, Clarie was grateful for that.


	5. Sing for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarie wants some time for herself, so she decides to go to the kitchen, but finds Dog on her way. Dog wants her to sing to him, but she does not sing, and she is more scared of the man. Tyrion takes her through the city to Littlefinger, and finds troublemakers around town.

Night came, and this time she was not sure it was Dog who was watching her door. Maybe some random one and she was afraid Joffrey would come in his drunken state like last time. He had not, and she thanked him for it the next morning. Each day that passed, she became closer to Lord Tyrion, despite little progress, and she felt safer with Hound, though he became less and less necessary to the lookout.

It was night, and aia slept heavily in her chair. Clarie rolled over on the bed. She would go to the kitchen, she decided. Aia would not notice, she was sure.

She unlocked the door carefully and looked around. Barefoot, she walked down the aisles, clutching her not well-behaved clothes, but not too vulgar to give him more mobility, though he was not long, fast and silent, looking sideways until he reached the kitchen. Milk, cheese, and bread. She stood there for some time, peering through the small kitchen window, letting herself be carried away by the starry sky.   
She got up, sighing, and went out the door, so she could walk faster, and decide whether or not to go to the gardens. She was frightened, as she watched him stop her, pushing her against the wall.

"Where are you going, little bird?" Dog's breath was pure alcohol, and he was incredibly drunk, maybe he'd had a bad night. "What would the king say by seeing his toy wandering freely in the corridors after sunset?" His voice was rough. "It would be bad." He said, looking her up and down. "I know you're a woman already." He still stared at her body as if he could devour her right there.

"Please, Sir, you're scaring me!" She said, startled, looking away from Sandor's scars.

"Sir?" He totally changed his voice. Coarse, as if irritated, spit it out without honor. He showed no honor in serving, he was bitter. "I'm a dog, remember? King Joffrey's Dog and you're the little bird." He still spoke in his menacing tone but changed it to continue. "Where were you going, Bird?" He asked, sliding his hand down Clarie's arm.

"I just ..." She closed her eyes, avoiding her eyes. "I wanted to feel the breeze ..." She said to the drunken man in front of her. " Please, Sir ...."

"Let's go. " He said, pulling away and holding her arm again. "Come on, do not you want to walk the Dog? Let's feel the fucking breeze on our faces. " He chuckled. "Or what's left of mine, right?" He dragged her through the corridors, and she was out of action, being dragged down the aisles, struggling to follow Sandor's long, swift steps, but failing miserably. She saw the grounds after Sandor jerked one of the exit doors. Sandor let go of her, halfway there, and backed away, throwing himself on one of the benches, looking at her, still standing.

She did not look at him, just stood there, feeling scared, but also feeling the soft grass under her bare feet, and the breeze discreetly swaying her dress. She stood there, feeling Dog's gaze behind her. She looked at her feet, and at Sandor, approaching wandering without looking at her face.

"Can I go back to my quarters, Sir?" She asked very quietly as Sandor smirked.

"Why, little bird?" He asked, biting her lips, and startled her by pulling her into his lap. She widened her eyes, trying to push him through the breastplate of the armor, but Sandor did not even force her to stop her, and with each movement, she felt Sandor's cock harden beneath the armor. He laughed when she stopped feeling him. She closed her eyes, feeling the warm breath of Sandor and his cock throbbing. For a moment he wanted to moan. It was almost impossible to stop the sound, and only an indecipherable growl came out. Her body burned, and a strange shiver wandered through her body. It was a woman, she knew. "We can stay here and do something more interesting. I can fuck you in the open air, something she'll never experience with her Lords." She shifted uncomfortably to Clegane's volume. "Does something bother you, milady?" He laughed in his mocking manner once more. It was a thick, very virile laugh, which made her shudder once more. "Little bird, could you give me a song?" He asked, and she closed her eyes, avoiding looking at him. "A song about true knights and beautiful maidens?" She stopped struggling, staring at him. 

"You're not going to touch me, Dog". She said without looking at him, fearing the man as much as possible. Tyrion had given express orders that he wanted her safely, and Dog could not hurt her. She was Joffrey's only "toy."

"Come on, sing!" He held her shoulders as he said it loudly, rising a little, getting twice as big as it really was.

"I do not sing, Sir." She said, and stared at his scars, but looked down immediately, with a mixture of fear and distress.

"Fuck! And that's just what the Lady does, right? They sing, waiting for their Lord or Sir enchanted that will never appear because they live in a world where there are only Assassins, and soon they died because they can not see the real world. " He was clearly drunk, but not enough to not know what he was saying.

"You are a hateful man." She said and Sandor smiled as if proud to hear such a thing.

"You will love the odious things I do one day when I am the only thing that keeps your 'beloved' from hurting you." He said it so serious, but so arrogant. "Look at me." She could not look at him no matter how hard she tried. She felt a horrible fear, but he felt more ashamed of himself, his body responding to such arrogance. Sandor stood up and looked at her with an odious expression. She did not look at him.

"Clegane, what's going on here?" Tyrion asked, coming from the stone path toward the castle, standing next to them, staring at the scene.

"I was just talking to the little bird ..." He started, but Tyrion interrupted him.

" She did not seem to want to talk." And he was still staring at him, his forehead a little furrowed. "Because you do not rest tonight, and leave Lady Clarie." He suggested, and Sandor twitched his lips, and turned, stomping out, stepping hard. Clarie looked at Tyrion, her expression a little empty.

"Thank you, My Lord." And she turned as if to go away, but Tyrion called for her, taking a step toward her and stopped.

"Lady Clarie, do let me keep you company." He said, walking towards her with his legs bent crooked and a simple smile on his lips to look at her, but was not really happy just was gentle.

"There is no need, my lord." She said, her expression still vague. "You must have more important things to do."

"Not. I was with Bronn resolving real matters, and now I have nothing else to do, Milady." He said, finally reaching Clarie's side, and for a moment she laughed, closing her eyes, and Tyrion smiled, frowning. "What amuses you, Lady Clarie." She looked at him. They were not that close, but she felt safe to tell him certain things.

"Sir Bronn said he would go to a whore, Milord, and, if I may, we all know the fame of the ‘insatiable goblin.'" She said, still smirking, and Tyrion chuckled, shaking his head as they walked.

"Yes, you're right, I was enjoying myself, Lady Clarie. He nodded at her. Despite being called a Goblin, I am a man, and the glory that I lack, I satisfy with more accessible pleasures." He said, running his short fingers through his blond-brown hair.

"Yes, indeed, My Lord." She said, and they were silent for a few minutes and just stared as if they wanted to talk but could not.

"I mean, Lady Clarie, that I heard only a little about Joffrey's going to his room by Varys." He said seriously, looking forward.

"No problem, My Lord." She said quietly, remembering that with her sad look. There was actually trouble, but what would he do? Joffrey was the king, and she was just a bastard. She could only hope to trust Tyrion and his words that it would be all right.

"I just want to apologize for this," Tyrion said, and looked at her, and she nodded. They walked for a few more minutes and entered the castle in silence, and they came to the corridor that separated them. She could see the aia, still lying on the bed, and Tyrion shook his head negatively with his lack of attention. "I'll go tomorrow until Littlefinger solves some real matters, and I wonder if he would join me." He asked, and she closed her eyes with a smile.

"Real affairs with Littlefinger, the owner of the most famous brothel of all seven kingdoms. Real matters like the ones you and Sir Bronn solved today?" She asked quietly, and Tyrion hung his head, smiling as he shook his head.

"Forgive me, Lady Clarie, that is not what I meant. I'm going to talk about Stannis, who, you know, is in a stalemate about attacking us or not, and I know it's not the most suitable place to invite a Lady to go, but I thought that after so long without leaving from the castle, I would like to get out a little. " He said, looking at her. "And where I'm going, you'll only go if you wish, Lady." She looked at him, and stayed for a few seconds, and nodded, and Tyrion bowed. "Have a good night."

"Thank you, My Lord." She said, and went to her quarters, entering quietly, locking the door, and moving to the bed, sitting there, feeling that sleep had completely abandoned her, and gradually comparing Sandor's differences to her. Tyrion, and Eddard and his "brother", Jon Snow, and even Arya and Sansa. She lay down, remembering the day Robert took her out of the horrible arms of Newt and his wife, and named her Baratheon, but still considering her a bastard. She closed her eyes, and at great cost fell asleep.

 

They walked through the streets of King's Landing, toward Littlefinger's brothel, very slowly, and Sir Bronn and Tyrion talked a little further, and Clarie merely moved closer to Sandor, fearing the glances that guided them. Clegane was no longer watchful for the day, only when it was necessary, as it was there.

"Stannis has more infantry, more ships, more horses. What do we have?" Tyrion asked Sir Bronn as he walked through the tents, where the people soon stretched out their hands, offering them their wares.

"We have your mind, which you are always using." Sir Bronn answered, and Clarie slowed her steps, not enough not to hear them, but enough to appreciate the goods of the people. She reached out, picking up two apples, and tossing an old man two coins, and looked at Sandor, sulking, then lowered his gaze, but reached out, offering the man the apple. Since he had not fed on that day.

"The truth is, I've never been able to kill people with it." Tyrion answered, while Sandor only looked at the apple with his face closed, still walking a little behind Clarie, "It's yours, Sir, please take it," she insisted while they were still walking. She had never been grateful to take Joffrey out of his quarters, and he had tried in vain to be kind to the man.

"Still." Sir Bronn said. " So I have a job." Tyrion still walking, heard Sir continue. "What about your father?"

"He will not send a crow for weeks." Tyrion sighed deeply. "You're very busy. Being humiliated over and over again by Robb Stark consumes his time." He said.

"Hello, little Lady." Tyrion can hear, and looked back, seeing a middle-aged man stroking the face of Lady Clarie, who retreated, but the man approached once more, standing just inches from Lady. One of his eyes was white, he looked half-blind, and he had a crooked smile on his lips, wicked.

"Get down, if you like your head fixed to the neck," Sandor growled, holding the handle of his sword, while the other, a bite mace. The man was startled to notice Dog there, and recoiled, falling on the floor, startled, as he watched him laugh, and lightly pat Clarie on her back to make her walk again.

"We can not protect the city against Stannis." Tyrion looked back. "Not the way Joffrey intends to do." And then a noise of people saluting and shouting in agreement echoed, and Tyrion slowed down, watching the multitude that prevented them from continuing the walk.

"Everyone is! We are proud, envious, unclean. The man Above a few crates," he said, and the small crowd shouted in agreement, while Sandor and Clarie slowed their steps, walking at the same slow speed of Tyrion, watching what happened. "Brother fornicates with his sister in the house of kings, and we are surprised that the fruit of this incest is rotten. More than howls of approval, and then Tyrion finally stopped, and the others followed. "A rotten king!"

Difficult to argue with this statement. Tyrion said, and Sir Bronn gave a short laugh as the man had said. It was always good to have someone as good-tempered as Bronn around.

"Not after what he did with the book he gave him," Bronn replied, still smiling, but Tyrion remained fascinated by the people, while the other two remained silent, devouring their maces.

"The king is a lost cause. " Tyrion paused. "It's with us that I'm worried now. " He said simply, his voice serious but still amused by what he heard.

"... A dancing king, bouncing through its blood-stained halls, controlled by a deformed, demonic monkey. " The crowd laughed, and Tyrion laughed at them, finding it extremely hilarious.

"I admire their imagination." And suddenly all three of them who followed Tyrion laughed, each in its own shape, and then Sandor leaned forward, debauched

"He's talking about you." Tyrion's expression broke, becoming indignant as she looked at the others.

"What?! "He asked, still indignant. "Demonic mob?" He questioned as high as his eyebrows, amazed at what Sandor had said.

"The people think that you manipulate the king." Sir Bronn said and looked at Tyrion, who looked back at the crowd, and again at Bronn, incredulous.

"Blame you for the diseases of the city. " Clarie said, biting the apple again. Varys said," I'm surprised you do not know, My Lord."

"Do they blame me? I'm trying to save them. " Tyrion said demonstrating the true absurdity that was for him. He was obviously the only one who really cared for the people within the small county, and yet he was guilty of the people's lack of interest in his people.

"No need to try to convince us." He said, walking again, and Sandor and Clarie followed, while Tyrion still looked at them as they walked away.

"Fucking demonic." He said, still indignant, walking again so he could accompany them on the crossing of the crowd. They walked, listening to the man speaks, barely noticing when the man began to point at them, shouting anything. Tyrion feared, standing next to Bronn.

"Kings, queens, lords and Ladies!" The man shouts, still pointing to them, that they slowed their steps with the intensity of the crowd around them. The man was still shouting his speech as the others shouted more hateful words and began to fence around them, threatening and gnashing their teeth. "They despise us, they ignore us! They must all die!" It was impossible to walk between them, and then they threatened to come upon them, scratching them, and then Sandor and Sir Bronn unsheathed their swords, and Dog drew the Lady under his arm, giving him greater facility to protect him, and Sir Bronn approached Tyrion, pointing his sword at anyone who threatened to advance.

"Come on, no one needs to lose their heads," Bronn said, smiling at them, lifting his sword. "But if you like, I'm sure it will please me and the Hound a lot, after all, I assure you, it will not be our heads that have rolled." He smiled as he watched people retreat after Hunting Dog raised his sword as if he were going to cut someone. "Thank you." He said and walked beside Tyrion, and Sandor still had her under his arm, following Bronn, past the crowd, looking at them, thirsting for blood, but they knew that they would really lose their heads if they advanced.

Tyrion entered the room with Littlefinger, while Sandor, Bronn sat in armchairs, waiting. Tyrion had said it would not be long, so they stood there sipping wine. It was not long, and three half-naked women entered the space, and Clarie looked at them. Not surprisingly, it was to be expected that some women would come to meet Sandor and Bronn.

A brown-haired, smiling brown-haired woman went toward the nearest, Bronn, who opened his arms, receiving the woman with good pleasure. The second sat on Sandor's lap, drank his wine, and seemed indifferent to the woman in his lap, almost wanting to drive her away. The third and last, she walked over to Clarie, who looked at her, smiling and shaking her hands as if to say no.

"Do not you want to, Lady Clarie?" She asked, smiling back. "I am a woman, I know more than anyone to please a woman." She said, and Sandor laughed, taking the woman off him.

"It would be exciting to see this scene. " He growled, looking at them in his usual debauchery, and the woman smiled at Sandor, and sat down on Clarie, sealing his lips to hers, widening his eyes.

"Bronn, my parchment," Tyrion said from the door, and at this point, Clarie had already closed her eyes, and she felt her tongue dance in her mouth. She was out of action, did not know how to push her, or if he left her there, then just shook hands, in a request for guidance, for help.

"Wait, this is a scene I want to finish," Bronn said, leaning forward, as Sandor looked at them, deciding what he would do. Tyrion looked at the scene, intrigued, and would tell the woman to leave her, but Sandor pulled her out of her lap, pushing her towards Bronn, who murmured in disappointment but accepting the other woman willingly. "Your parchment." Bronn murmured, tossing the parchment to the dwarf. "I really hope Littlefinger has the money to finance the war after you've ruined this scene."

"She's a child, Bronn, do not forget. " Tyrion said before closing the door, and seeing Sandor throwing himself at Clarie's side, drinking all the wine from his glass, filling it again, while Bronn murmured a "No, it's not."

"Please, Sir, do not drink so much." She asked, looking ahead, recovering from what had happened, ignoring Bronn and the three euphoric women in her lap.

"Are you afraid he cannot protect you?" He laughed without looking at her, paying attention to the women laughing in his lap. "Do not worry, I'll protect you. " He paused. "Longer for him to hurt you?" He still did not look at them, laughing. "I'll protect you. It will be an hour to kill Sandor Clegane." Sandor started to get up, but Clarie put his arm in front of Dog, afraid that they would kill themselves there.

"Sandor and the name, then?" She asked quietly, in fear, and the burned knight leaned back against the couch, staring Bronn down at him, murmuring only "Dog." "Why do you let them call you Dog, not Sir?" She tried to keep herself occupied, just as Sandor, who up to that moment, was looking at the angry Bronn, who seemed not to hear them anymore, occupying his mouth with those of the women, and his ears with the inappropriate whispers. The dog looked at her, finally interested in the words of the young woman, who did not seem so interested.

"I like dogs more than the knights ..." He paused, and Clarie finally looked at him, but pertinently avoided his eyes to his scars. She did not believe he would actually respond, but she was interested. "A dog will die for you, and never lie to you." And he'll look right in your eyes. He said, and Clarie realized he was looking him in the eye, and looked away, feeling the fear.

"It's all right, then". Tyrion said, standing beside Littlefinger, who nodded silently as Dog stood up beside Clarie.

The door opened, and a young woman passed by, with golden hair and white skin and blue eyes and a very rosy mouth, very well dressed to be some Petyr official. She stopped abruptly at the sight of Tyrion

"Erica? Tyrion frowned down at her. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, my Lord, at King's Landing or the brothel?" She asked, recovering from the surprise and laughter. "I went back with Cousin Cersei and Jaime." She said, walking again, and soon Jaime appeared in his field of vision, and Tyrion smiled, receiving a smile back.

"Jaime." Tyrion said, and Jaime passed Erica, bending down to hug him. "They returned, no crows. " He said, looking at his brother.

"We sent crows once, and Robb got these." Jaime clarified with his golden hand. "We will not send it this time."

"Beautiful hand. " Tyrion said with a final smile. "Trio of gold, the Dwarf, Regicida handle, and crazy." He said, heading for the door. "Erica. " She weighed in the girl, and Sandor and Clarie began to walk, while Clarie looked at Jaime and Erica.


	6. Drink, my friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei and an unpalatable woman, and so Clarie wants to drink, and Tyrion shares that desire, and they end up drinking too much, and Sandor is realistic about his status on the Red Keep.

Cersei was as unpalatable as Joffrey, Clarie realized, and such stress made her lose count of the days. Cersei threatened her, and it hurt her, and everything had worsened when Tyrion had sent Princess Myrcella to her new bridegroom. Clarie could clearly remember each time Cersei will hurt her.

"Get lost bastard!!" Cersei shouted, clenching her cheek violently, and sliding her fingers brutally down the girl's light tan face. She could not stand Cersei, and Cersei could not stand her. It was a reminder that Joffrey was not the legitimate king, but at least Cersei did not seriously hurt her, as Joffrey wished, and even in public he humiliated her. It was only the hidden ones, and this irritated her more. She was tired, exhausted, unhappy.

Joffrey had already pointed out beasts to her and laid aside his principle that a king did not strike a lady. He had created a new game for himself. No less, he threw things at the young woman. He had a needle that would nudge her over and over again, and what she hated most was that her leg was mapped by a metal spit which Joffrey had warmed to burn.

"Hey, you look pretty today! "Joffrey smiled wickedly, watching her as he approached him and Tyrion. She just turned to him, as she always did, and Joffrey approached, and for a few seconds, she did not understand what was happening.It was just fun for Joffrey, but the spit was so hot it burned his clothes, and reached his skin. It was a terrible pain she, unimaginable. It was terrible, agonizing. It was the first time he had seen Tyrion physically defray anyone. He shoved Joffrey with all the strength his arms could muster, and Joffrey fell to the ground while he prevented the guard from approaching, as if he could finish the greatest one right there. Tyrion pulled her away from the angry king, while Sandor held him with one hand, preventing him from advancing on Tyrion and Clarie.

It was the morning of last day when Tyrion despatched Shae at his expense, trying to be cold, but the truth and that he felt his heart ache horribly over there. He filled with drink effortlessly, without remorse for getting drunk to the point of almost forgetting what he said.

And Clarie, she could remember in detail how much Cersei was hateful, how much Cersei competed bravely with Joffrey. She could remember hating all the Lannisters, but she could not hate Tyrion, and she could not be sure about James, the brother Tyrion so venerated.

That night, Clarie was grateful that Joffrey and Cersei did not meet, and Jaime did not appear to be present, and Erica, despite Lannister, refused to come to dinner, preferring to sit alone. Tyrion and Clarie were alone at the table. Even Bronn or Sandor was present, and this allowed them to drink and talk. Claire could not take Cersei and Joffrey any longer and drank to forget them, and Tyrion only swallowed the wine, while the conversation flowed very well despite the reasons why they drank.

"Joffrey is spending absurd money on this useless tournament."He said, taking another sip. " Did I hurt you? " Tyrion asked, pointing to Clarie's face, which had a deep scratch of a long fingernail, and Clarie, taking a long sip, shook her head affirmatively. Tyrion was already altered, and Clarie gave only a signal. They could not tell how many glasses they had drunk. "I can not stand that woman." The words were a little flushed, but Tyrion knew what he was saying, though he was visibly altered.

"You, me, and ..." She frowned and shook her head as if to say it was over, or maybe the wine was getting more intense. She just took another long sip and laughed. "How does he stand?" "She drank some more. "All? I'm a little late, and I can not stand them anymore ... And if it were not for Sandor not to report me, Joffrey would have raped me ... They want ..."

"Cersei wanted to kill me since I was just a baby." He said, taking another swallow in the wine. "And in this world, there are few people who are more hated or more humiliated than the Demon Monkey. He said, watching her fill her cup without shame, and take a long sip. "I survived for being a Lannister, but sometimes I believe that because I am a Lannister, I am humiliated ..." He sobbed as he ran his finger wrapped around the edge of the glass.

"Where is Sandor?" She asked, and definitely, the wine had an effect on her cheeks and her speech.

"Perhaps in a bar, a brothel, or the door to his chambers." He lifted his glass and laughed. "Let's see him. Divide the wine. " Tyrion said. Getting to his feet.

"I do not think that's a good idea. " Clarie drank some more, and looked at Tyrion, smiling. She did not even know why she smiled, but she could not help but smile at the dwarf.

"For now, let's go." Tyrion was completely drunk, and that point softened the pain in his chest. "I want to tell him how I got into an embarrassment where we ended up having a conversation about him." Tyrion laughed and shook his head. "Bring the books ... and the wine."

"I do not think he'll like it." She laughed, getting up. She was clearly drunk but sane enough to reason. Sandor would be as arrogant as he could, but he had drunk enough not to stop him.

"Sandor is not this one " Tyrion concluded, looking at the empty chair. "To a bar, then." He said, turning around and starting to crouch his steps, sliding his hand across the wall.

 "Por que não ficamos aqui, meu senhor? Não seria sensato deixar o castelo?" Ela perguntou, abrindo a porta. Ele sentiu que o vinho escorregaria de suas mãos se permanecesse lá por mais tempo. Ela entrou na sala, sentindo as pernas bambas, deixou o vinho na mesa e olhou para a porta. Tyrion estava do lado de fora segurando seu copo e olhando para ela. "Entre, meu senhor. Tenho certeza que você não vai me violentar." Ela brincou com o fato de que Joffrey a atacou, e Tyrion entrou no quarto e fechou a porta sem trancá-la. Ele caminhou até a cadeira, e ela se sentou na beira da cama, ainda com um copo de vinho na mão.

"You are a man with a complex black mood." She said, sipping the wine, and Tyrion gave a muffled laugh without looking at her, and Clarie watched the man's smile, which was perfectly homogeneous to the man.

"I try to make people laugh at my jokes to try to stop being the cause of their jokes." He grinned, still smiling, and then looked up at her, watching her features.

"Do they bother you a lot because of your height? " She dared to ask, and Tyrion just took another long sip of wine.

"The truth is yes, but I learned to ignore them and their jokers. " He said, watching the wine roll in his glass as he swayed it.

"I've been reflecting on." Said adjusting her dress as she bent her knees, and Tyrion looked up at her. He was drunk, but just like her, he had a certain awareness of what he was saying, what he was hearing.

"Share your reflection with me, my lady." Tyrion already had in mind what she would say. Something inconvenient, a mockery, as people always did, consciously or unconsciously.

"People who mock a dwarf believe they are the first people to mock a dwarf for his height. She said and took a long sip of her wine, and Tyrion lifted his head, staring at her with his lips parted. Her not expect this. He shook his head affirmatively, giving a shy, domed smile.

"Yes, they think they are the first, but they are not, and not the last ones as well." Tyrion put his glass on the table and looked at it. "And they think they're powerful." He was still watching her drink from her wine. "I'm not enough for them, for everyone." Said, still looking at her.

"And, excuse the question, where it comes written that we should be enough for someone? " She asked. "We must be enough for ourselves." She sipped some wine, looking into her own hands. "If they do not see the best of you, My Lord, they do not deserve you to look at them, who will say that you care what these madmen say about you. " She whispered now. "They do not deserve you, then. If no one sees in you how clever, kind, how funny and how much you do for them, even with what they do, then no one is worthy enough of your person." She swallowed the wine and looked at it. Tyrion stared at her, mouth half open, and looked down, leaning back against the couch.

 

The sun beat on Clarie's face, and she woke up, rolling over the bed, hugging her covers, feeling warm. His head throbbed angrily, but it was nothing he could not stand. She closed her eyes in an attempt to fall asleep again, but the sun prevented her. She rubbed her eyes, breathing deeply, and rising from the bed. He let out a sharp cry, muffled by his own hands as he saw Tyrion lying on his couch with one of his legs down, and the other on the couch, and his face was lying on the table, very awkward and uncomfortable, more than usual, considering its size.

"Milord". She called low, getting up, rubbing the front of her head. "Milord." She stood up, clutching her feet, and walked over to him, giving a muffled chuckle as she shook the dwarf's shoulder, which opened her eyes, bouncing back, banging her head on the table.

"Oh, For seven, Lady Clarie! What makes us ... "He looked around, startled, and remembered last night. "In your chambers, what did I do." He asked, and looked at her as she chuckled, but she was startled to hear the door open.

Aia gave a frightened growl at the sight of them completely disarranged, their faces marked by night sleep, their hair completely messed up, and their clothes crushed. If they loudly denounced that they had spent the night there. Sandor went to the side of the aia, looking at the scene, and closed his face, murmuring something as he made heavy steps to be closer to the aia, visibly grumpy, and pulled her away. Aia came back quickly, not knowing what to do, and disappeared. Clarie burst out laughing, putting her hand on the still aching head and straightening her hair, and Tyrion shook his head, laughing at her.

" My head will explode ... I should not have drunk so much. "He said still looking at her, laughing. "How much do you laugh, Lady Clarie?" Tyrion asked if he sat properly while rubbing his face and still processing the situation, looking at Sandor who stood the door, looking at them irritably.

"Gods, what a crazy situation. " She laughed a little more and took a deep breath. "What will they say? Oh, heavens, the king will kill me."

The laughed a little more, and Tyrion shook his head.

"He will probably kill us," Tyrion said, but just like her, she was not afraid. "He wanted you just for him, and Aia would probably say he saw us naked, kissing us. I can see him throwing me from the highest tower ..."

"Never let me drink again to sleep like this. " She asked, and Tyrion asked him the same. "The preparations for the tournament? Are not they today?" She asked, still laughing a little.

"I'll think I'll go now." He got up, going to the door still staggering a little. "My head is killing me." He stopped and looked at her with a smile.

"Gods, I think I had the most surreal dream of my life. I was getting married!" She laughs. "And I do not remember anything else ... These drinks are really dangerous." "Tyrion would say a few things, but he shook his head, laughing, and passed Sandor, still with his hands on his head, and did not greet him, or said good-bye to Clarie, just walked out into the hall, leaving her there with Sandor.

She looked at the man, and he had laughed at her, but he was frightened, breaking his smile. Sandor stepped abruptly toward her and took her by the hand, and she caught her breath, staring at the man's breastplate.

"Have a good night's sleep yestoday, little bird?" He growled, but he smiled dejectedly, as always amused by the situation. "Good moments, Half-man, you and your bed? " He said, and a loud crack echoed through the room. Claire had marked her fingers on the face of Sandor, who turned his face to receive the blow,

"I have not slept with Lord Tyrion, I have nothing to do with him. I'm not a whore. You are a hateful man." She said, and Sandor looked at her, and all her courage left. Her legs faltered. She would fall to the ground if the man did not hold her by the arm. She closed her eyes tightly, fearing Dog, who was breathing heavily, staring at her for a long time.

"Lord Tyrion will bring you serious trouble with the king, little bird." He growled, and she still stood only by the force that Sandor did on her arm, and her eyes remained closed and she trembled slightly, just feeling the hot breath of wine coming from Dog slam into her face, and felt her legs wobble more. "Joffrey had not forgiven him, even though he knew he did not take her as his. Joffrey will hurt you for it." He said, and she opened her eyes, without looking at him, and still not steadying her legs. She took a deep breath, still shaking, and without looking at him, tried to speak.

"A Dog will die for you. "She said very low, still feeling the warmth of Sandor's body that reached her. "A Dog can protect a bird from a deer. She said in a trembling voice, and the Hound shifted, being silent for a few seconds.

"A Dog can save her, but this Dog cannot save her whenever she is reckless." He said in his usual tone. "A dog would die for a bird if it were not the King's Dog." He dropped it, and she dropped to the floor, kneeling, watching Sandor walk away with heavy steps, and went out into the corridors, giving up her watch, and she felt bad for it. She wanted to call him, did not want to be left at the mercy of Joffrey, or his vassals, who could go to his quarters during the night.

 

They were following behind Joffrey, a little farther off, and by this time Tyrion had given up trying to control his nephew's spending, and let Petyr try it, failing miserably.

"Lady Clarie." Jaime greeted her as she passed them, the most beautiful smile Clarie had ever seen. "Good night, today? "He laughed, and Clarie put her hands to her face, smiling and shaking her head negatively as she stared at the man between her fingers.

She ran her fingers down his face, looking at the Lannister's hand. "We'll forget this, there was nothing much. " Tyrion agreed, smiling a little embarrassed. Jaime was aware of what Tyrion had said, but he knew the information had not yet come to Joffrey. "And are you training with Bronn?" She asked.

"Clearly. And a discreet man, truly, is very good, by the way. "He says and watches Cersei call him, and he looks at them. " If you'll excuse me." He approached Cersei, leaving them behind, and Clarie glanced at Sandor.

"Dog, come!" Joffrey called him as he called an animal, just as he always called him, and then she looked at the man as if she felt sorry for him, and he looked at her as if he had only hatred of everything.

"Explain to me, My Lord." She asked, looking at the little Lord. "Because of your devotion to Jaime. "She asked. He knew Jaime was not a monster like Joffrey or Cersei, but Tyrion looked at him as if not only his hand was gold, but all of it.

"Jaime and the only one who does not judge me just by my height." He said, walking beside her, while Bronn chattered beside Podrick, and Clarie avoided looking forward, where he could see Dog next to Joffrey and Cersei. She felt ashamed. "Since we were kids, Jaime and I used to play. He was the only child who came near me, and more than that, he defended me against the other boys. He supported me and showed love. He was and is the brother I could want, and ask, in case he was not. "He said. Tyrion still felt headache, she knew, and said under each word, trying to concentrate.

"And, yes, I must understand. "She said. "But Jaime is not the only one. She said, looking down at the floor. "There's Sir Bronn, me and Podrick." She laughed a little. "Even if we take into account that he pays Sir Bronn, he is the only one who does not attack me, and that Podrick and his squire." She said, and Tyrion gave a short laugh.

"Milady, let me work." Petyr's voice was heard, and one could see an irritated Erica standing next to the man, murmuring in his ear.

" Littlefinger, listen to me!" She said a little louder and irritated with that. "Varys has already confirmed." She said, and Petyr only scribbled down her notes about the tournament.

" You have a notion of what you ask me? No." he said, walking a little faster, leaving her behind, rolling her eyes and stopping walking, turning and walking away in anger.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm Larissa, and I'm Brazilian. I do not speak English very well, but I have a beta for fanfic. Forgive me, off to the fanfic, I use Google translator. I'm posting here, and in English because the public here is very nice. Hope you like it!


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